Conspiracy Break
by lookslikeajobforthewinchesters
Summary: Peter just wanted to watch the game on a good TV. Unfortunately for him, a good TV will apparently enslave his mind, according to Mozzie.


Neal was used to this, but Peter was still quite new to it, even after four years. While Neal had spent the better part (meaning the part _not_ spent in prison) of his adult life dealing with the fallouts of minor decisions that became tragic episodes of horror and intrigue. Peter had witnessed the occasional comment and a small run-in with spies, but he'd never seen the full force of it.

Mozzie was scrambling around Neal's apartment with several rolls of tinfoil, which he was currently using to fully encase Neal's new television set.

"Haversham!" Peter exclaimed as Moz emptied a roll of tinfoil and promptly tossed it over his shoulder. It his Peter square in the face. "What on _earth_ is going on here?"

"What's going on? What's going _on_?" Mozzie shrieked. "What's going on is that your federal brainwashing tricks are getting to Neal! That's what's going on! He bought a new television! Don you know what that _means_?"

"Erm," Peter looked to Neal for an explanation, but Neal just shrugged. "It means he thought the picture on his old one wasn't clear enough?"

"Guess again, Suit!"

"The screen broke?"

"Your inability to think outside the box in your grandest foible, Suit!" Mozzie proclaimed, frantically wrapping the television in tinfoil. He applied copious amounts of duct tape to hold it all together.

"Mozzie thinks the government has used the digital television age as a method of imposition for Big Brother," Neal explained. "He thinks there are cameras and microphones embedded in them to spy on us. He also thinks the digital signal has mind control capabilities that were originally supposed to be used for subliminal advertising, but are now being used to subvert the minds of the many."

"That's ridiculous."

"Is it, Suit? Is it?" Mozzie asked. "The digital television has two uses: spying and mind control. It's a veritable portmanteau of government interference!"

"Hey, good one, Moz," Neal said with amusement. "It's not often you get to work _portmanteau_ into a sentence."

"Thank you," Moz said proudly. Peter threw his hands up.

"Why don't you just scan it for bugs?"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Suit? Don't think I'm not aware of the detection-proof bugs you government goons have been working on," Mozzie glared at Peter. "I'm no layman shmuck."

"Okay," Peter said with exasperation. "I think it's time for me to leave. This is really not worth watching the game on a good TV!"

"Oh, Peter, no!" Neal cried. "You can't leave me with him alone like this."

"Neal!" Mozzie griped. "You're supposed to be on my side! Ugh. Well, if you've gone Suit, then my tinfoil efforts are all for naught. They've gotten to you."

"Alright, fine," Peter grumbled. "I'll stay."

Neal made his way over to the fridge and produced three cans of coke. It was a hot August day and, as much as Neal loved fine red wine, there was nothing like an ice cold coke to cool you off. He handed one to Mozzie a split second before realizing his mistake.

"Coke Classic, Neal?" Mozzie said with horror. "You know, I've had to forbear your moribund career as a world class conman, but do you really need to bow down so deeply to the man?"

"Sorry," Neal sighed. "I forgot."

"Forgot? _Forgot_? Neal, you know the corporate behemoth that is Coca-Cola Inc. has played God with the taste buds of soft drinkers everywhere! You _know_ New Coke was a corporate conspiracy used to increase the demand for Coke Classic!"

"And now you can't ever drink it again because your trust in the formula has been destroyed."

"Precisely!"

"Alright, Mozzie," Neal said firmly. "Here's the deal. I'm going to watch my new TV and I'm going to drink my coke. And you're going to watch my new TV and drink your coke. And you're going to enjoy it."

"But, Neal, the mind cont-"

"No mind control!"

Mozzie glared alternately at Peter and Neal for a few moments before tentatively taking a sip of his coke. He swallowed and stared at the can suspiciously.

"Okay. But if I wind up dying a horrible death from complications arising from the altered formula of this coke or find myself suddenly a fed-lover, please put me out of my misery," Mozzie relented. "I'd rather have no life at all than a life as a demi-fed."

"I promise to murder you should things take a turn for the worse," Neal smirked. Mozzie nodded and settled down beside Neal. Peter used a pair of Neal's scissors to slice off the tinfoil and duct tape before turning on the game. Mozzie leapt from the couch with a yelp.

"No! I can't do it!" Mozzie shouted. He grabbed the leftover roll of tinfoil and bolted for the door. "Neal, you are too far gone! I can't watch you like this! Drinking Coke Classic, watching a digital TV, watching _game_…it's too late for you, but I can save myself!"

He slammed the door as he left in a panic. Peter looked at Neal for an explanation. Neal shrugged like 'what can you do?'.

"Mozzie hates sports."

"So do you," Peter pointed out. Neal chuckled. He made pretended to weigh his options, laughing at the look on Peter's face.

"Yes, but you like sports. Friends suffer through terrible things for each other sometimes. It was this or listen to you whine about pixels for three weeks."

"And your big sacrifice here is letting me watch the game on your awesome TV?"

"Oh, of course," Neal grinned. "It's certainly not witnessing a Mozzie Haversham Conspiracy Break. It's been ages and it's always an excellent source of entertainment. Consider it my consolation prize."

Peter rolled his eyes and sighed, deciding that watching the game was somehow the least exciting thing that had happened to him today.

This is for Devoregirl, who has decided the world needs more Mozzie fanfiction! Here you are, and I hope it lives up to your expectations! I wrote it half asleep, so my apologies if it makes no sense at all.


End file.
